


Aria

by moroiulmeu



Series: Amadeus: Lost Scenes Series [8]
Category: Amadeus (1984)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 17:55:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30109824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moroiulmeu/pseuds/moroiulmeu
Summary: Salieri is not letting Mozart off easily on his birthday. Set before Nachtmusik and Interlude.
Relationships: Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart/Antonio Salieri
Series: Amadeus: Lost Scenes Series [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1476971
Comments: 8
Kudos: 3





	Aria

**Author's Note:**

> Did you know it's said Mozart spoke 15 languages? I don't even speak one, I'm just putting down words that look pretty. ;)
> 
> I've got most of the next chapter of Fuga done but I've had the first part of this floating around for awhile and I wanted to do something with it.
> 
> I'd like to thank everyone for their patience and support!

Mozart shifted and reached out without opening his eyes but when his hand simply fell to the surface of the bed he sat up with a frown, finding himself alone in the bedroom, the sunlight spilling in through the curtains, creating a strange but warm lighting as it mixed with that of the fire place. His heart sank slightly in disappointment. Since he had first been brought here Salieri had rarely left his side, spending his days tending to Mozart's recovery and many of his nights wrapped around him like a human blanket, unwilling to let go, leaving only to attend to his duties as Court Composer and teacher. It was difficult for either of them to believe that only a short time had passed.   
Carefully Mozart got up, his body still protesting against its misuse and made himself presentable before leaving the bedroom, using the walls for support when he needed to.  
"Buongiorno, lupo..."  
Mozart looked across the room and found Salieri seated at a table drinking coffee and going through the morning post.  
"Buongiorno, Antonio..."  
He made his way over to sit down quietly, thinking back to the first morning he had done so. He had stood in the bedroom doorway petrified, wondering if his presence was something desired at breakfast, let alone if it was acceptable to disturb Salieri while he was reading the post. Salieri had spent half an hour in stupefaction, amazed that such thoughts had even crossed his mind. While the silence was still fresh it was now mostly comfortable. Mostly. Mozart didn't trust himself to break it yet.  
Salieri folded a letter before looking at him with a fond expression that was still a surprise. He reached out and set a hand over the top of Mozart's gently, stilling the tremors.  
"I had some ideas for today, if they interest you."  
Mozart tilted his head curiously, indicating Salieri had his full attention, something he found difficult to give to just anyone.  
"Correct me if I am not in error, is it not your birthday?"  
His jaw dropped, he had not expected Salieri to know such a thing, much less acknowledge it. He nodded dumbly. A trace of worry crossed Salieri's face and he carefully took Mozart's hands and kissed them.  
"You're in no condition to do much, I'm afraid... That said I would still like for you to enjoy it. The day is yours, lupo... As am I."  
Mozart blinked several times, perplexed and feeling his nerves run in every direction. Birthday celebrations? Him? Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart? It made him laugh anxiously, feeling winded, as though he had been kicked in the chest. He felt Salieri's hands tighten around his own and he looked up to see that his expression was now dead serious and full of worry.  
"Lupo, I didn't mean to upset you."  
"I'm... Just a little surprised, that's all," Mozart managed to say, "This isn't something I'm used to..."  
Salieri nodded, stroking his fingers comfortingly. Mozart found himself starring at their hands entwined over the top of the table, feeling his anxiety starting to fade as he realized he didn't even have to explain.  
"I did do one thing," Salieri admitted, "Well, a few, but I dismissed my staff for the day, thinking it may be fun to treat you with meals of my own making... Though, if you would like to join me in the kitchen I would hardly object."  
Mozart was starring again, he let out a faint noise of amazement as Salieri kissed the top of his head.  
"Unless you're afraid of my cooking," Salieri added with some amusement, "Would you care for breakfast?"  
He suddenly realized how starved he truly felt and he nodded dumbly.  
"Is there something specific you would like?"  
Mozart's natural impulses almost led him to saying something dirty but he shook his head.  
"Very well, a surprise then."

Millions of thoughts ran through Mozart's head as he sat at the dining table, the scent of breakfast wafting through Salieri's apartments, strangely intoxicating, making his mouth water a bit. He wasn't sure what he was smelling, It was a sweet, warm scent, lulling him into the haze alongside the crackle of the fire and the warmth of the coffee that seemed to seep through his very bones. What could it be? What did Salieri have planned for the day? What would happen? What about the rest of his family?  
Darker thoughts tugged at him in the back of his mind as he thought about birthdays long since past, but Mozart shoved them aside ruthlessly, a small voice, one he found growing louder by day, insisted that Salieri would hardly allow such things.  
He was almost asleep when a soft clatter caused him to look up as Salieri set a plate infront of him.  
"You will have to forgive me, my dear lupo. Even after all these years I find it difficult to take much of a breakfast, Italians are not much in the practice of it."  
Mozart blinked, starring in shock at the small cake sitting before him. A weird noise fell from his mouth as he tried not to cry and bite his hand. He felt Salieri's fingers comb his hair back and he closed his eyes.  
"Don't cry over it until you taste it, you might throw it out the window."  
Mozart coughed into his hand, finding it difficult to laugh and cry at the same time. He picked up his fork and took a bite of the cake.  
The scent had not prepared him for the flavour, fluffy, sweet yet not overbearing, for him, the best cake he had ever tasted.   
He promptly fell straight out of the chair.  
"Dio santo! I need to stop killing Mozart..."  
The abruptness of Salieri's expression made Mozart burst out laughing on the floor. Salieri smirked before offering him a hand. He took it and found himself pulled to his feet in one swift movement, Salieri's other arm wrapping securely around his waist. Before Mozart could say anything he was half smothered in kisses.  
"Finish your breakfast and think about the rest of your day, lupo."

A short time later Mozart sat in a chair watching Salieri work, unable to decide what it was he really wanted. He watched in fascination, looking at the slight frown as the Court Composer debated on changing a measure. He found his mouth dry as he followed the conducting patterns of the man's free hand and watched as he scanned the page for other corrections.  
"May I kiss you?" Mozart blurted out. He hadn't expected himself to speak, but he realized that it was exactly what he truly desired.  
Salieri tilted his head, puzzled.  
"You still feel the need to ask?"  
Mozart shrugged.  
"You're busy."  
Salieri smiled and set the sheet music and his quill aside, taking Mozart by the jaw.  
"I'm never too busy for this."  
While the cake had been good Mozart was pretty confident he knew exactly what perfection tasted like: soft, warm lips, sweetly flavored with a hint of coffee, sugar, and a taste of something he was never fully able to describe. All the years he had spent wondering how those lips tasted left him unprepared every time, left him breathless, speechless, weightless.  
He felt the long hands snake around his waist, pulling him close as he slipped his fingers under the wig and into Salieri's real hair. He barely noticed that his feet were half off the ground.  
"Cosa desideri, lupo?" Salieri purred softly in his ear, nipping at the edges.  
"I think I'm going to faint," Mozart mumbled.  
The deep chuckle cast a reverberation that sent a shiver up Mozart's spine.  
He dropped his head against Salieri, closing his eyes with a sigh.  
"This. I just want this, Adone..."  
Salieri froze, his posture going rigid, Mozart wasn't even sure he was breathing. He looked up anxiously, starring at the distant, shocked expression. There was something painful in it, the dark eyes far away.  
"Che cosa?" Salieri asked finally, his voice barely a whisper.  
Mozart winced.  
"Is that alright? You're always calling me 'lupo...' I like it... And you... You're the closest thing to Adonis I've ever seen..."  
Salieri swallowed hard and let go of Mozart absently, looking sore and lost.  
"I'm sorry?"  
Mozart bit his lip and reached for Salieri's hands, taking them in his own.  
"Antonio, I'm sorry, have I hurt you? I didn't mean to, I just-"  
Salieri's focus switched quickly to Mozart and he shook his head furiously. Without a word he lifted Mozart at the waist and spun him around before setting him down lightly on his feet, wrapping him up in his arms.  
"So it's okay?" Mozart questioned, not bothering to hide his amazement.  
"It's fine," Salieri mumbled into his hair.  
"I love you, Adone..."  
Salieri's grip tightened.  
"Ti amo, lupo..."  
Mozart smiled warmly and kissed his cheek.  
"Could I join you in the kitchen at lunchtime? I don't have a lot of experience baking, you understand, but it sounds like a lot of fun."  
Salieri smiled warmly.  
"I'd be delighted."

"Perhaps, my dearest, you should try to contain the flour to the counter," Salieri mused several hours later.  
Mozart leaned on the cupboards, bright red under a layer of white dust.  
"Sorry..." he replied, looking away.   
Salieri's fingers gently graced the small of his back for a moment, setting him at ease. They brushed his hand as he reached around, taking the dough away.  
"Here, lupo, like this..."  
Mozart frowned, watching Salieri's hands knead the dough like a man in a trance, his mouth dry again. He was so focused he didn't even notice he was swaying slightly, having let go of the counter.  
"Lupo?"  
Salieri stepped behind him, putting his arms around Mozart on either side, continuing his task.  
"Give it a try..."  
Mozart stood rooted to the spot, starring hard at Salieri's hands infront of him, his face and neck burning brightly. It was one thing, he realized, to have the Court Composer wrapped around him at night, it was quite another in the kitchen during the day.  
Nervously he reached out and set his hands half ontop of Salieri's and half ontop of the dough, trying to swallow and focus. He mentally cursed his trembling and loss of strength as he tried to follow Salieri's example.  
"That's it..." came the soothing voice in his ear.  
"You're going to give me a heart attack," Mozart mumbled.  
Salieri chuckled quietly.  
"I just don't want you falling down on my floor. You've had enough of that."  
"Uh huh... Sure..."  
He expected a snarky reply but when Salieri was silent he looked up curiously, finding him watching with a fond smile. He kissed the side of Mozart's head gently and took the dough from him.  
"Enough or it will turn out like a rock. Let it rise."  
Salieri put the dough aside, regarding Mozart critically. Mozart blushed darkly and looked away.  
"I know, I know... Hopeless..."  
Nothing could have prepared him for the laughter or the way Salieri started to take a rag to his face, wiping away the flour.  
"Gracious, you are under there... Hold on, I'll save you."  
"Smart ass," Mozart muttered.  
Salieri took his face and kissed it repeatedly.  
"I think, perhaps, a bath may be able to help you more than I can. I'll have one drawn for you and have this finished by the time you are done, how is that?"  
"Sounds fair..."

Mozart's brain had nearly broke the first time he had seen the room he found himself in now, while Salieri was by no means an extravagant man life did allow him some luxury. The bath he sat in now was as welcoming as any palace's, the room done beautifully in dark colours and teeming with plant life.  
"Wofferl... What have you gotten yourself into?" Mozart mused quietly to himself.  
His heart sank as he looked at the flour now floating in the still warm water, wondering how long it would last. Gloomily he sat there, unconscious of the time until he heard a soft rapt on the door.  
"Lupo? Are you alright?" came Salieri's voice from the other side.  
"I'm fine!" Mozart called hurriedly, scrambling to get out. He cursed reflexively as his leg collided with the side of the tub, nearly sending him sprawling to the floor. The door opened at the same time and instead he found himself half in Salieri's arms quite abruptly. He frowned to himself, wondering how it had happened.  
"Hmm... That's certainly better..." Salieri observed with a smirk.  
Mozart dropped his head, embarrassed.  
"Sorry..."  
"Don't be... How is your leg?"  
He blushed darker.  
"Fine..."  
"Good."  
Salieri kissed the side of his head and set him down on his feet, reaching for his robe. He draped it around Mozart, unable to surpress a chuckle at how the tiny blonde drowned in it.  
Mozart caught a whiff of cinnamon and paused.  
"Are they done?"  
Salieri nodded, tending to the bathroom.  
"Yes."  
"Antonio, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"  
"Hush. You have nothing to apologize for, lupo. Let's find you some clothes before you catch a chill."  
Mozart dropped his head again, bright red once more, his mind wandering back to when Salieri had helped him change months ago. He swallowed hard, feeling his eyes burn.  
"Mio tesoro... What's on your mind?"  
His breath hitched as Salieri hugged him close from behind, resting his head against his damp hair. Absently he wrapped his hand around one of Salieri's arms, trying not to notice how small he suddenly felt.  
"My hope was that you would enjoy today, amore mio... I know past birthdays have not likely been pleasant for you... But I hoped today would be different."  
"That's it..." Mozart said quietly, "It is... Adone, today has been remarkable for me so far... It's a lot..."  
Salieri flinched, making him look up.  
"I didn't mean to overwhelm you..."  
"No, you haven't, I just... I don't know what I'm saying, Antonio, forgive me, please..."  
"There's nothing to forgive, lupo..."  
Salieri let go of him gently but the troubled expression caused Mozart to swear more openly than the smaller composer intended.  
"Adone, no," He insisted firmly, grabbing his sleeve, "I love you, I love this... It's just a lot to process for me... But it's good, please, it's good..."  
Salieri swallowed, looking tired and torn.  
"I'm not sure what it is you want, lupo..."  
Mozart hugged him tightly.  
"Don't let go?"  
To his relief Salieri hugged him back with a sigh.  
"I still don't want you to catch a chill," he said after a moment.  
"I don't mean like that..."  
"I know exactly what you mean... I promise. Come, before both the rolls and you are cold."  
Mozart bit his lip as he followed Salieri to his room. _Their room?_ he mused to himself and watched as Salieri rounded up clothes for him, feeling his heart ache at the distant expression.  
"There... This should do for now..."  
Hesitating, feeling like he was walking on ice Mozart stepped forward and took Salieri's face in his hands, brushing his cheek with his thumb. He wasn't sure Salieri even stayed breathing, his eyes going wide. Without a word Mozart kissed him, trying to pull him closer as he did so. He felt Salieri catch him around the waist, steadying them both.  
"Is this your birthday or mine?" Salieri asked in a bit of a daze.  
Mozart chuckled, gripping Salieri's jacket.  
"Whichever you want..."  
He watched with delight as the Court Composer blushed.  
"I think, lupo, it's best if we turned our attention to downstairs..."  
"I suppose you're right..."  
Salieri kissed the top of his head gently and without another word helped him to change before guiding him back to the study, setting him down at the table.  
"Sit. Eat."  
Mozart did exactly that, pleased that the silence had eased back to something enjoyable. It wasn't until he was finished that Salieri broke it.  
"I have something for you... Well, a few things... I hesitate with the latter, I confess..."  
Mozart physically jumped, startled.  
"You what? Adone, you didn't have to do anything... I- Earlier I thought you meant-"  
"Hush..." Salieri replied, biting his hand for a second, "I suppose it's now or never... Carino..."  
He rose from the table and took a small wrapped box from his desk.  
"I debated on this for some time, you understand... Uncertain what it was you would like or prefer..."  
"Adone, you-"  
Salieri placed a finger to Mozart's lips, looking stressed.  
"Hush... Grant me one thing first... Lest you change your mind..."  
Confusion came and went as Salieri kissed him softly, lingering for a moment with what felt to Mozart like fear. Instinctively he took his hands in his own, wrapping them over the box lightly.  
"It's okay..." Mozart whispered softly, stroking his thumb, "Nothing could make me change my mind..."  
Salieri looked skeptical for a moment, before he sighed.  
"Open it."  
With more care than he normally took with things Mozart opened the box, his curiosity aflame. His heart nearly stopped at its contents.  
Inside was a letter with the King's seal. Trembling with more than just tired nerves Mozart opened it with bated breath. He scanned the document and found himself dizzy, it was an appointment, but not merely any appointment. Salieri had requested Mozart as his assistant.  
"Adone..."  
Without a word he set the box down and wrapped his arms around Salieri tightly, burying his face in his hair. Salieri breathed a small sigh of relief.  
"Thank you," Mozart mumbled through tears, "Thank you for everything... I won't let you down, I swear..."  
"That may become impossible, lupo..." Salieri replied quietly, hugging him back.  
Mozart leaned back and took his face in his hands.  
"I swear to you..." he repeated firmly, "I just... I just need guidance, that's all..."  
Salieri shook his head.  
"I merely need you beside me... La mia vita... ti prego..."  
For Mozart it was as though Salieri had torn the air right out of his lungs. Mozart treated languages as he treated music, abet loosely. He had lost count how many he spoke, he knew the ends and outs of many phrases and customs. The words Salieri had all but whispered he knew were never spoken lightly.  
He sat there stunned, gripping Salieri's jacket and sleeve.  
"Bello?"  
"I'm not going anywhere..." Mozart whispered finally, "I promise..."  
Salieri tried to smile and looked away at the piano.  
"There is... One other thing..." He stood and crossed the room, reaching for the score he had been working on earlier.  
"Adone, you didn't..." Mozart breathed.  
The momentary weak smile made Mozart's chest hurt again.  
"Adone, please... Don't torture yourself... I want to hear it..."  
"It's... Not actually for piano... Or the harpsichord... Or even the violin..."  
"God, you didn't write it for trumpet, did you?" Mozart said with a dramatic sigh, crossing his arms in a mock pout, "I'll never forgive you."  
"I've been accused of being many things, Herr Mozart, evil is not one of them," Salieri replied, picking up his oboe.  
Mozart dropped his arms, his expression slipping to wonder.  
"Ah..."  
"Just... Listen..."  
Mozart sat up at attention, barely breathing as he realized this was the first time he ever recalled Salieri playing strictly for him. The subdued, warm sounds of the oboe's lower register greeted his ears slowly, easily, stealing the tension away from his body. His thoughts seemed to dissolve in the space between the notes, instead hanging on every sound that reached his ears. He felt something inside of his chest, or perhaps even deeper, vibrate like a tuning fork, as though his soul and heart insisted on singing along, the music reaching his ears sweeter than any of the treats he had tasted throughout the day. It raced up his spine and danced along his skin, causing something to ache and making him wish not for the first time that music was a tangible thing. He marveled quietly at the emotion permeating the piece, to him it felt like love, a touch of pain, a hint of confusion and anxiety, raw in the deepest sense, it was as he had found himself stating before.  
"Lupo?" Salieri questioned, starring at him the moment he was finished.  
Mozart didn't bother to hide the fact he was crying openly, smiling.  
"What more can I say?" He asked hoarsely, "But Salieri..."  
For a moment Salieri's expression started to dim but Mozart threw his arms tightly around him, hiding his face in his shirt.  
"I love you," he mumbled, "Thank you."  
Salieri's exhaled finally and set the oboe aside before hugging Mozart back.  
"Happy birthday, lupo..."

**Author's Note:**

> Dio Santo! = Good Lord/Holy God/Good God  
> Cosa desideri? = What would you like?  
> Che cosa? = What?  
> Mio tesoro = My treasure  
> La mia vita... ti prego... = My life... please...
> 
> I thought of working in Nannerl and Stanze but it felt awkward...


End file.
